All for a Song by Allison Pittman Page B

Dorothy Lynn from her trance. “Yes,” she said. Of course she would.
    “I thought so.” Mrs. Lorick removed her hand and turned to Darlene. “That’s a dollar fifty a yard.”
    That got Dorothy Lynn’s attention. “Oh, that’s too much.”
    “Veils are rather old-fashioned,” Darlene said in a rare moment of support.
    “Perfect for an old-fashioned girl marrying a man of God,” Mrs. Lorick countered.
    “No,” Dorothy Lynn insisted. “I’d marry Brent in this if I had to.”
    Here Darlene and Mrs. Lorick joined forces, clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, even though she was wearing the same fashionable green dress she’d borrowed the night before.
    An hour later, they left with a large canvas sack filled with the rolled lengths of fabric, lace, and trimmings that would be transformed into a wedding dress. It was nearly noon, and the heat radiating up from the sidewalk felt like an assault.
    “Let’s get home,” Darlene said. “The boys will be ready for lunch, and I’m sure Mrs. Mevreck next door will be ready to send them home.”
    “You said we could go to the music store,” Dorothy Lynn protested, knowing she sounded childish. But she’d hauled her guitar on their errand run because of her sister’s promise.
    “Tomorrow.” Darlene spoke with the experience of a seasoned negotiator. “Aren’t you eager to get started on the dress?”
    “Of course I am. But—” knowing her sister’s unintentional selfishness, she chose another tack—“wouldn’t you like to have some time to sit under the fan and prop your feet up? Ask Mrs. Mevreck to make lunch while I get this over with, and then when I get home I won’t be so distracted.”
    She tried to use the same hypnotic pace and tone that had worked so well for Mrs. Lorick and was rewarded when Darlene’s face turned to something peaceful, like she could feel the breeze already.
    “That sounds nice. Do you know where you’re going?”
    “Just two blocks up. Roy wrote it all down for me this morning before he left.”
    “And you know which car to take home?”
    The idea of being alone in the city should have terrified her;instead, she felt herself swell with pride and anticipation. “Yes.” She thought so, anyway.
    Darlene fished in her jeweled purse and produced a few coins for carfare.
    “I have money,” Dorothy Lynn protested, the thought of taking from her sister infringing on her fledgling freedom.
    “Just this once. If you want to get some chop suey for lunch. You should try it at least once before you go back home.”
    “But I wanted to try it with you.”
    Darlene patted her mounding stomach. “Not these days. Stuff makes me swell up like a dirigible.”
    They exchanged a kiss good-bye, and the next thing she knew, her sister had disappeared around the corner, though she’d disappeared in the crowded sidewalk long before that. Dorothy Lynn turned in the opposite direction and looked at the slip of paper where Roy had written the directions and address of the music store. It would be a walk, but she knew she would enjoy it.
    Never had she imagined so many automobiles could try to occupy a single road, but here they were, four abreast in the street, horns honking to get other drivers’ attention, echoed by shouts and pumping fists when the horns were ignored.
    And people walked so fast! Men in suits wove in and out of girlfriends strolling arm in arm, leisurely taking in the displays in the myriad of store windows. Those on foot traveled twice as fast as those in cars, and if Pa were here, he’d advise those frustrated drivers to abandon their cars and walk like the good Lord intended.
    When it came time to cross the street, Dorothy Lynn held up at the corner and waited until some semblance of a crowd had formed around her—not only to create a buffer from the oncoming traffic, but to give her an idea of when it was safe toventure into the street. More than once her guitar was jostled against her, though she tried